


Seduction

by BloodunderMoonlight



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Will Graham, First Time, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, Idiots in Love, Lovesickness, M/M, Misunderstandings, Murder Husbands, Pining, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Post-Fall (Hannibal), Seduction, Top Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham Loves Hannibal Lecter, lovesick Hannibal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:02:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28950087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodunderMoonlight/pseuds/BloodunderMoonlight
Summary: “For fuck’s sake, Hannibal.” Will glared at him, brimming with wrath he had only seen behind Will’s gun. He had no doubt Will would draw out a knife from beneath the duvet or pillows, but clearly words were enough to make him gobsmacked—“Are you a fucking virgin or monk? If all these can’t get you to bed then I don’t know what can.”Hannibal stood gaping at Will.Will wanted to get him to bed? As in having sex with him?
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 15
Kudos: 483





	Seduction

The blade slid into the thick skin of the pomegranate which cracked open like a geode, revealing the flesh sparkling in thousands shades of red in the late morning light. One of the cuts had run too deep;the ruby liquid spilled onto the cutting board. The fragrance of the fruit mingled with the rich scents of tomato, cinnamon, onion, and pepper, which Hannibal had prepared for the roast chicken thighs they would have today.

He liked preparing simple meals nowadays. It wasn’t because they were still on the run and survival was more important than a luxurious meal, nor their kitchen was less equipped than the one in his old house in Baltimore. It was merely because Will preferred simple and homey meals, and Hannibal endeavored to make this apartment their home.

It had nearly been two years since the fall. The FBI had declared their death, but anyone who knew them would never believe it. Most of them would live in fear, but some, especially Jack and Alana, would be hellbent to seek and kill them. 

Despite how much Hannibal wanted to show Will the Piazza della Signoria, Palazzo Pitti, or Giardino di Boboli, Florence was too dangerous for them to visit at the moment. 

Will didn’t have a preference for where to settle in, and cities and their art, poetry, and music were what Hannibal always longed for. Paris was his first choice.

Will had laughed at him when he quickly changed the casual clothes back to his suit once they had arrived. “Did you come from the 19th century or something?”

And that nearly had Hannibal embarrassed about his clothes, like he was in fact wearing silly pajamas instead of a bespoke suit. He began to dress down at home, forgoing the tie and suit jacket and sometimes in sweater only. 

It wasn’t the clothes however, that he felt naked in front of Will, whose eyes now were clearer and sharper than they had ever been, no longer shying away or hiding behind his glasses. Will would look straight into Hannibal’s eyes. His gaze would penetrate any walls or forts, and shine through Hannibal’s heart like a blazing beam from a towering lighthouse. Hannibal’s instinct screamed at him many times, demanding him to look away, to recoil back into the comfortable darkness. 

He didn’t want to hide anything from Will; there had been too many lies between them. Besides, he didn’t have much he could hide. Will had learnt everything about him: his taste and his past, and likely his greatest fear, when Hannibal had hauled his limp body from the wrathful sea while praying to the gods he never believed. Yet, there was one thing Will shouldn’t know. 

Hannibal sighed and picked up the pomegranate seeds fallen on the cutting board, and the next second Will, totally oblivious to being the source of Hannibal’s agony and vehemence, went back from his walk and strode into the kitchen the way he had stormed into Hannibal’s heart.

Hannibal’s hand which was taking the seeds to a small bowl stopped mid-air. He glanced at his clothes—white dress shirt and apron and dark trousers and shoes—and back at the fruit on the counter before looking at Will, ready to describe their meal with flowery words, but Will didn’t even give him a glance. 

Will just headed straight to a cabinet and poured himself a glass of water, craning his neck to gulp it down, which had Hannibal’s eyes glued to his Adam’s apple. Some water dribbled out of the corners of his mouth to his chin and throat and the small dent between his clavicles behind his undone collar. 

Hannibal swallowed dryly. The pomegranate seeds slipped off his fingers and nearly missed the bowl. 

Will wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Messy mongoose. Messy but adorable.

Ruffling his curls, Will let out a content sigh and finally looked up at Hannibal. Hannibal averted his eyes just in time. 

“How was your walk?” he asked, forcing himself to pick up the seeds one by one, so he would have something other than Will’s lips to stare at.

“The weather is nice,” Will said. “Just bumped into a neighbor when I went back. Hmm, we are going to an opera this weekend?”

“Yes.” Hannibal looked up. “Have you changed your mind?”

Will shrugged. “Well, as your ‘husband—’” Hannibal’s hands paused again. “—I should occasionally show up with you. People would suspect.”

It was Hannibal’s suggestion, pretending to be a couple. 

They looked and spoke so differently to be relatives, he had explained to Will, and it was unlikely for friends to give up their lives for each other and move to a strange country and into the same house.

Will had eyed at Hannibal for a moment when Hannibal took out a pair of rings. 

“Do, do we look like a couple?” He rubbed his ring finger which had been empty and free since the fall. His face flushed.

Hannibal studied the way Will’s lashes fluttered before plucking a ring out of the box. “I believe it wouldn’t be difficult for us to convince the others.” He reached at Will’s wrist. 

Will’s pulses quickened under the touch, but he neither flinched nor pulled back, so pliant as though he would not object even if Hannibal flipped his hand and slid the ring on his finger.

Hannibal bit his lower lip and placed the ring on Will’s palm. Will hummed but didn’t protest further.

Will never wore his ring unless he had to go outside, while Hannibal wore his unless he had to dip his hands in water or sauces or blood. A pair of bands were nothing compared to their bond, but Hannibal had to suppress his giddy grin every time he caught the glittering rings on their hands.

Will put down the glass on the countertop. The faint click drew back his thoughts.

Will was already standing before him, raising a brow at the bowl of seeds. “What are those for?”

“Those will be sprinkled on the chicken with coriander to add a refreshing flavor and vivid colors to the meat.” Though none of them was alluring as Will’s lips, which now were damp and glistering in the sunlight.

“Of course you love this fruit.” Will smirked. “A forbidden taste that could bind me to you for eternity.”

If only Will’s heart was that easy to be captured. 

“Persephone ate the seeds willingly,” Hannibal said, tugging up the corners of his lips as he thought of the dinner they had had together after Will’s rebirth. The _lomo saltado_. It was quite a shame that the meat wasn’t actually harvested from Freddie Lounds, who was now writing about them living happily together somewhere in Cuba. They would pay her a visit one day.

All of the scattered seeds were in the bowl now. He turned his attention to the ones clustering together, gently pressing on a few of them to coax them out.

Will watched him curiously. He smiled and held up a seed. “Would you like to have a taste?”

Will looked at him and his humble offering before taking a step closer. 

Hannibal lifted his hand higher for Will to pick up the seed, but Will just bent over slightly, opening his mouth like a cat sniffing at its food. Hannibal tried hard to hold still under Will’s breathes, and what happened next nearly choked him—Will wrapped his lips around Hannibal’s fingers, and his hot, devilish tongue brushed Hannibal’s skin as he sucked the seed into his mouth.

Were Hannibal not such a composed man, he would pant and groan with widened eyes, and yet Will was still blind to his struggles, smiling innocently while chewing the fruit.

“Tastes good,” Will said, stealing a slice of pomegranate from the cutting board before hurrying out of the kitchen.

Hannibal felt his heart shatter, and a large piece of it was held mercilessly by Will’s hand.

He clenched his jaw. He wanted to gnaw at something. He wanted to break anything he could grab. He wanted Will. He wanted Will to stop this.

Living with Will shouldn’t be that painful. 

No, it wasn’t about the untidy bed or unfold clothes or all sorts of messiness Will had created. It was just Will. 

Will loved wandering in the house in his tight t-shirt and boxers in the morning, and when he stretched, he moaned and the hem of his unfit t-shirt would rise and expose his belly and hips. Will also loved peeping over Hannibal’s shoulder to see what he was cooking, pressing his whole body against Hannibal’s back with no awareness of personal distance. And he loved leaning over the balustrade of the balcony and tempting Hannibal’s gaze to roam over his lovely bottom. Even though Hannibal was proud of his self-control, it was way too much to him.

Indeed Will had never stated he was heterosexual, however considering he had only had affairs with women and Hannibal had never seen him looking at other men in an interested way, Hannibal could say it was very probable. Therefore he just treated Will as an angel, a beautiful, yet sexless creature.

Sex wasn’t what they must have. Will had chosen him, and that was what he wanted. Their minds and souls matched perfectly with each other. Their relationship didn’t have to be romantic. They could remain as close friends and life partners. It didn’t have to be sexual. 

That was what his rational mind insisted. Sadly it had no controls over his reactions. His chest would forget to move once Will entered his view and his gaze would follow every movement the younger man made.

Although he was capable of killing, skinning people alive, and being isolated in a glass box for three years, he wasn’t a saint. He was also made of flesh and blood and he had his desires and needs, which were growing day by day from Will’s seduction, and the worst part was that Will wasn’t even doing that on purpose. He was just comfortable being with Hannibal and just being himself, but as the result Hannibal had to relieve himself in a cold shower every night.

Hannibal gazed at his fingers and the glass, or more precisely, at where Will’s lips had been. He stood there for a minute before taking his hand and the glass under the water tap. He was not that desperate yet.

  
Hannibal had smelled Will before Will came into his bedroom without knocking at the open door. 

He was straightening his tuxedo jacket while glancing at his reflection in the full-length mirror. It was the third time he did so in the last fifteen minutes, although there wasn’t a wrinkle on his shirt and not a strand of his hair had fallen down.

He had never had a problem with his appearance, not until Will made him doubt about his attractiveness. He had tried dressing less formally, and it gained him a quirked brow from Will. He resorted to more flamboyant suits then, only to have Will calling him peacocking. It was so difficult to please Will.

He pursed his lips at the mirror. The fresh scents of soap and shaving cream, and an unfamiliar whiff of aftershave drifted into the room—wood, amber and tonka bean—the one he had purchased for Will but was never worn. 

He turned around quickly, and he forgot his breath like a nervous bridegroom seeing his love walking along the aisle to him. 

Will, his _gorgeous_ Will was now clad in a dark blue tuxedo which matched the beguiling hues of his eyes, his hair combed but still curved and bouncing in a mischievous way. A sweet, sheepish smile blossomed on his face. He was perfect. How could he be possibly real?

Hannibal’s heart quivered, aching to hold Will’s face and kiss his cheek, to finally confess his love. He swallowed and he could already feel his voice shaking. 

“...You have shaved.”—were the three words he could utter.

What a coward he was.

“Yeah.” Will looked at the floor, stroking his clean chin. “I just thought it had been a long time and maybe I’d find it was a good idea? And of course I still hate it. I look too young without the beard.”

Will laughed. His hand flew up to his cheek to hide the scar left by the Dragon, which had healed nicely and would fade over the time as Hannibal had assured him when snitching his wound.

“The Dragon disfigured me,” Will had said, at which Hannibal shook his head.

“You are beautiful,” Hannibal had whispered. 

And he said the same words again, pleased with the blush on Will’s face.

Will scratched the back of his neck, taking a deep breath. “So...I tried putting on the bow tie and I almost strangled myself.” He glanced up at Hannibal. How could anyone refuse to help him?

Hannibal took a step to Will, raising his hand as if he was asking for a dance. “May I?”

Will stuffed the tie onto Hannibal’s hand with a feigned reluctant groan then lifted his chin, showing Hannibal his throat without a thought. 

Hannibal could grab his neck and crush his windpipe. Will would look at him with eyes widened, scratching his arms and whining pitifully. 

Thinking of death usually excited him. Usually. 

Will’s neck deserved to be marked by his lips instead.

Hannibal stepped closer and raised his hands to Will’s undone collar. The necklace Will always wore wasn’t there. Hannibal didn’t know when Will had brought it or what kind of pendants it had. Will just started wearing it one day and treated it like a secret treasure, covering it tightly with layers of fabric. Hannibal didn’t ask, for knowing at least it wouldn’t be the ring from Will’s last marriage, which had been long lost in the Atlantic Ocean.

Hannibal looped the bow tie around Will’s neck before flipping the collar down and buttoning the top button. It was a shame that he wasn’t undoing Will’s shirt.

“Tying a bow tie is very similar to tying shoe lace,” he said so he wouldn’t be asking Will if he could bury his nose onto Will’s throat to savor how the new aftershave brought out his natural scent. 

He flattened his lips and forced his hands to work. 

“You have a pair of skillful hands,” he said. “You could make beautiful fishing baits. Tying a bow tie wouldn’t be difficult for you. I would bet you could learn it within a minute.”

Will snorted. Hannibal’s hands were so close to his neck, his voice vibrated against Hannibal’s skin.

“I just don’t want to learn it,” Will said. “Why would I need to learn it when you can do it for me?”

Hannibal smiled. “Your precious minds should be preserved for something more important.”

Work was done, and he let his fingers linger on Will’s clothes for a moment longer, ironing out the non-existent wrinkles.

When he looked up Will was gazing at him without blinking. Their breaths melt together and the heady perfume of Will burned Hannibal’s throat. Will’s lips were just millimeters away. He could lean forth and taste their warmth. 

“Hannibal…” Will murmured. His tongue peeked out from between his lips and left them wet and glossed.

Hannibal tilted his head. His nose caught a faint acidic and sweet scent, a smell similar to fear but less intense. Nervousness.

He summoned all of his strength to pull himself away.

“You look perfect,” Hannibal said when he could breathe properly.

Will huffed, stroking his bow tie with the pads of his fingers. “And you are terrible.”

  
Will’s eyes spent more time on him rather than on the stage.

Will had learnt French before, and Hannibal was teaching him more, giving him reading materials and talking to him in French from time to time, which Will had found awkward at first, and now he could handle daily conversations confidently. Opera, however, was an entirely different level. 

Hannibal had told Will about the synopsis so he wouldn’t be lost during the performance. Will still kept staring at him as if his reactions to the music were more intriguing than the opera itself.

Will watched Hannibal often. He would cast his gaze at Hannibal whenever he thought Hannibal was too immersed in reading or drawing or cooking that he wouldn’t notice. Hannibal did the same to Will. Though Will’s eyes were filled with curiosity as opposed to the admiration and lust Hannibal had.

Hannibal wondered how he looked in Will’s eyes, and how come Will couldn’t look between his ribs and see his vulnerable, tremulous heart.

Will could understand any killers by a glance at their works, but the brilliant mind he had failed to see the man he lived with was suffering from lovesickness inflicted by him.

He should have at least noticed something and be less careless around Hannibal, though his oblivion allowed Hannibal to indulge himself with their small, casual touches. 

Hannibal placed a palm on Will’s shoulder blade once they left their seats, and he used his free hand to take a champagne flute for Will when they entered the grandiose lobby. 

“Not going home?” Will asked. His lips quickly perched on the rim of his glass. 

“Let me talk to a few acquaintances and we will head home,” Hannibal said, taking a flute for himself. 

“You do the talking, I drink the alcohol.”

Hannibal smiled. “Fair enough.”

They were approached by his colleague in the university he taught literature at.

Speaking of which, Will had given him a grimace when he had told him about the subject.

“‘ _Renaissance literature_ ,’” Will drawled. “Going to teach about Dante?”

Hannibal gazed at Will. The first sonnet of the great poet rested on the tip of his tongue. He responded instead: “You are welcome to sit in on the classes.”

Will shot him a look. “At least you aren’t teaching psychology,”

Will did occasionally come to the lectures, sitting at the far end of the hall, and when the classes ended they would go to nearby restaurants to have lunch or to the markets to purchase ingredients for their dinner.

Hannibal already missed their domestic life and their home. 

Will hummed at him and that was when he realized he had been staring at Will and completely forgotten about where they were.

“Don’t mind him,” Will said, turning his face to Hannibal’s colleague, who looked at them with an adoring smile. Will returned a beam. “He’s just like that, always staring at me and unable to think of anything else.” He threw a smirk at Hannibal. “Now I am even afraid of going into the kitchen when he’s cooking;he’s nearly cut off his fingers several times.”

Hannibal straightened himself. “I have never.”

Will met his eyes with a playful smile which captured all his attention. Perhaps he had.

“You know,” Will said. The naughtiness in his eyes sparkled in the golden lights. “He had the same goofy look the first time we met. Drooling over me. And I am not exaggerating.”

Hannibal parted his lips, but before he could say a word to regain his dignity, his colleague giggled at them.

“You two are such a lovely couple. How did you meet each other?”

“A mutual friend.” Hannibal preempted Will, not giving Will another chance to mock him. “I did fall for him in an instant, but he told me he didn’t find me interesting. I am not a man who would give up easily. I did everything to court him, gifts and dinners and blandishments, anything to make him smile.” 

Tightening his arm around Will’s back, he let a besotted smile stretch on his face.

“You were annoying,” Will said. “And you still are.”

“I am persistent.”

“Shameless.”

Hannibal raised his chin. “At least I won your heart.”

“And you shamelessly think you can boast about it, when I’ve caught yours without a blink.” Will chuckled, angelic, and yet impish like a nymph.

Hannibal would close his eyes to listen to this dulcet sound if he weren’t in public, if Will weren’t grabbing his arm and leaning towards him, printing those rosy lips on his cheekbone.

He blinked, and blinked, dizzy as Will chuckled again.

He didn’t know how their conversation went next, or if he said anything at all. It was Will who excused themselves and led him down the grand staircase and out of the opera house, holding his hand with the ring pressed against his palm.

“It was nice,” Will said as they stopped at their car. He turned to face Hannibal, still holding their hands together, even when the street was nearly deserted and no one was watching them.

Hannibal nodded. A cold wind rustled in his ears. Will edged closer to Hannibal for warmth, and Hannibal’s cheeks got hotter. No, he wouldn’t blush. He never blushed.

He cleared his throat as quiet as he could. He said, “Would you like to accompany me next time?”

“Maybe.” Will smiled, looking into Hannibal’s eyes as if he was expecting something.

“Oh, forgive me.” Hannibal quickly rummaged in his pocket for the car key. How had Will rendered him completely hopeless?

He pressed the button on the key to unlock the car door. He heard Will sighing, but Will had climbed into the car before he could inquire.

  
They didn’t talk much during the short ride. Will went to shower once they got home. Hannibal bade him good night then shuffled to his study with his bow tie and collar undone and a glass of wine in his hand. He needed some alcohol to numb himself.

He sat at his harpsichord by the closed casement. He had set the room dim. Moonlight shone upon him while snow was falling gently. 

He ran his fingers over the dark wooden keys. He had the sheet music on the music desk, but his chaotic mind couldn’t decipher the notes. 

His hands moved freely. His muscle memory could only help him to play a page or so. His mind was back to the young man he yearned and he struck the wrong note twice. 

Once he stopped playing, his hand raised to his cheek and tried to find the kiss Will had left here.

It was merely an innocent kiss, but how could he, a sophisticated killer, become so undone and miserable for it?

It was just a disguise, nothing unlike Will holding his hand or calling him husband in front of other people, and nothing unlike the polite gesture that two close friends would do when greeting each other. He shouldn’t think about it. 

It had to stop.

He dragged his hand back to the harpsichord, submerging himself in the music.

“You’re still up?”

Hannibal snapped up his head. 

Will leaned against the door frame while rubbing his damp curls with a towel, flushing slightly from the shower, dressed in nothing but the dark sleep robe which hung loosely, _very_ loosely from his body, exposing his smooth chest and long legs. If he moved just a little bit, Hannibal would be able see his most private part between his thighs.

_Oh Lord please save him._

Hannibal breathed heavily, withdrawing his hands from his harpsichord so he wouldn’t break any of its keys. He kept his eyes on Will’s face, using all of his strength not to follow the dripping droplets on Will’s torso.

“It’s chilly tonight, Will,” he said. “Get dressed and dry your hair or you will catch a cold.”

Will shrugged, and his robe slid off his shoulder slightly.

Hannibal clawed at the fabric on his tensed thighs. He took a deep, shaky breath as Will left. The faint scent of soap haunted him.

He grabbed up his wine glass and gulped down a mouthful. It didn’t help much with the heat in his lower belly.

He remained seated, afraid of leaving the room and bumping into the nearly naked Will.

When Will returned he had his hair blown-dry and had put on a shirt and a pair of boxers beneath his robe, much more decent and less stimulating to Hannibal's tortured mind.

“Don’t mind me,” Will said as Hannibal stopped playing at his approach. “Just want to have a nightcap.” He whirled the whiskey glass in his hand and stopped beside Hannibal, looking at the harpsichord's keyboards curiously. “Play something for me?”

It was near midnight. Hannibal should retire to his bedroom, but he needed to play, to let out his burning feelings for Will. How could he play anything now when Will was listening?

“Would you like to play with me?” He asked.

Will quirked his brows. “You know my piano was collecting dust in my old house. And this isn’t a piano.” 

As tactile as usual, Will raised his hand and tapped at the lid stick of the harpsichord. Hannibal wanted those fingers to explore his chest instead.

“It is similar to a piano,” he said. 

“I can’t even tie a bow tie even though it is similar to tying a shoelace. Why would you think I could manage it?” Will dragged his bare feet on the carpet and sat at Hannibal’s left. He took a sip from his glass before placing it down next to the music desk, smirking with his arms crossed. “And why would you think you can manage to teach me?”

“I am a good teacher, Will,” Hannibal said. 

Will licked the alcohol off his lips. “Teach me then.”

Oh, if only Will would allow him to teach him the wonders of human anatomy. 

Hannibal smiled at himself. 

“Harpsichord is one of the predecessors of piano,” he said. “Sounds are produced by plucking the strings, therefore the volume is fixed no matter how hard you press the keys. The additional manual controls a different set of strings to increase the variety of sounds.” He played a few notes on both of the manuals. “The lower one is louder and the top softer.”

Will tilted his head at the harpsichord, searching for a place to land his hands on. Hannibal grabbed Will’s hands gently and guided them to the lower manual. The ring on Will’s left hand reflected the moonlight. Why would he still wear it? Did he simply forget taking it off before he took a shower?

“Why are the colors of the keys inverted?” Will asked, stroking the white sharp keys. 

“Ivory was rare and less affordable than wood,” Hannibal said. His gaze burnt the keys Will had just touched. 

Will played some random chords, and he stopped, looking at his hands then back to the manuals, just like a cat surprised by the touch of water. “That’s weird."

Hannibal smiled. “The keys are slimmer and the dip is shallower than the piano’s. You have to lift and curve your fingers.”

Will followed his demonstration but still hit an adjacent key. “It’s hard to see the naturals in the dark.”

“Another reason why the piano has an inverted color scheme,” Hannibal said, wrapping his arm around Will’s waist so he could lift Will’s left hand to the top manual by the elbow. “Do you want me to light some candles?”

Will huffed. “Is it a date, Doctor Lecter?”

Hannibal smiled at Will’s ear and breathed in the scent of his chocolate curls. “If you would like it to be.”

Will struck a few dissonant notes. The tip of his ears showed a tint of pink.

“In that case you would have to play something romantic for me,” Will said

If Hannibal hadn’t realized how much power Will had over him, he would now. His hands danced on the keys automatically, waving the beginning of _Clair de Lune_. He caught a glimpse of Will’s beam, and he barely pulled his fingers back from the wrong notes.

Will slowly reclined his head on Hannibal’s shoulder. Hannibal pinned his gaze on the manuals to lest himself be snared and mocked for the inevitable slip of the hand. 

The last note quavered in the air like his heart did. 

Hannibal slowed his breath to match the soft breathing beside him. Will’s eyes were closed. His long lashes cast vague shades on his cheeks.

“Will?”

No response.

Hannibal turned his body at Will, who groaned and grabbed his upper arm.

“It’s rude to fall asleep during a performance,” Hannibal whispered.

Will mumbled something unintelligent.

Hannibal cupped Will’s face, just to secretly caress Will’s lips with his thumb. “Go to bed, Will.”

“Hmm, take me to bed.” Will slit open his eyes and draped his arms on Hannibal’s neck. How adorably spoiled he was. How painfully easy it was for him to initial a touch.

Hannibal bit the inside of his cheeks. Impossible to dislodge his beloved, sleepy mongoose, he put his arms at Will’s back and under Will’s knees, hoisting Will up with a heavy puff. 

Will sighed and buried his face on Hannibal’s shoulder, which made Hannibal still for a moment. Hannibal ordered his legs to bring them out of the study to Will’s bedroom, which he had only dared to venture into when helping Will with the laundry and cleaning.

The room was lit by the small lamps beside Will's bed. The sealed window had Will’s scent concentrated in the air.

Hannibal stepped over the tuxedo jacket and pants on the floor. Despite his carefulness when he laid Will down, Will grabbed at his shoulders by reflex, pulling him down onto bed as well. He braced himself with his arms just in time, or he would definitely crush Will, who lay beneath him pliantly, looking at him with misty eyes and parted lips.

He could eat him right there.

Hannibal drew a breath and backed off, but then Will mumbled “hot” and “sweating” and started unbuttoning his own shirt.

Hannibal stopped him by the wrists. “You are drunk, Will.”

“I’ve only touched a flute of champagne and a bit of whiskey...” Will freed himself from Hannibal’s shaky grip and continued his work, slowly exposing his collarbones and chest at which Hannibal swallowed hard.

It shouldn't be like this. He couldn't take advantage of Will. This shouldn't be forced.

“...I will fetch you a t-shirt.” 

Hannibal stood but Will snarled and jumped off the bed abruptly, grasping his wrist with the strength that could break his bones. 

“For fuck’s sake, Hannibal.” Will glared at him, brimming with wrath he had only seen behind Will’s gun. He had no doubt Will would draw out a knife from beneath the duvet or pillows, but clearly words were enough to make him gobsmacked—“Are you a fucking virgin or monk? If all these can’t get you to bed then I don’t know what can.”

Hannibal stood gaping at Will.

Will wanted to get him to bed? As in having sex with him?

All these were purposeful seductions?

“Will,” he gasped. “I’ve never thought—”

“You’ve never thought?” Will’s face flushed. “I literally ran around with my ass naked.”

“Will…” Hannibal took Will’s hand into his unsteady palm. “You have only had relationships with women before. I thought you would never have interest in having one with a man.”

Will laughed dryly. “Well, I thought so until I found you interesting enough. I have never truly been with anyone anyway.” He lowered his eyes. “I didn’t think _you_ would have feelings for me, Hannibal.”

Hannibal’s hand tightened around Will’s, then he remembered he was allowed to touch, he was welcomed to touch. He raised his free hand and stroked Will’s face, trembling to find Will smile and nuzzle his palm in return.

Hannibal asked, treading his fingers into Will’s curls, “When did you realize it wasn't true?”

“I had had doubt...and hope.” Will sighed, clutching onto Hannibal’s fingers. “When you were...away. I asked Bedelia if you were in love with me.”

Hannibal held his breath as he met Will’s eyes. “What did she say?”

“She said ‘yes.’ Then she asked me if I was too.”

“...and what did you say?”

The answer was simple. Will smiled and cupped Hannibal’s face with both of his hands. His lips brushed Hannibal’s softly with the intoxicating scents of mint and whiskey. 

Hannibal closed his eyes. He sucked at Will’s lips to chase the flavors. Just like facing a delicate, perfect dessert and unable to bring himself to taste it, his hands rose and landed on Will’s hips tentatively. Will gripped his forearms, laughed at his flinching, and pulled him closer so he could wrap his arms around Will’s waist, their chests pressed hot against each other. 

Hannibal dug into the fabric of Will’s robe with a jolt as Will playfully nipped at his bottom lip. He peeled off one of his hands to cradle Will’s head, licking and sucking Will’s lips to make them part for him.

The escalating heat from Will permeated through the thin fabrics between them, scorching Hannibal's skin and traveling down to his tensed stomach. His cock throbbed in his underwear. He loosened his arms to shift backwards, but Will gripped his collar and leaned closer. Their hips bumped each other, sparkling a tremor through his whole body.

Will broke away, his lashes fluttering and his cheeks flushing. 

Hannibal planted a soft kiss on Will’s cheek and he felt Will smile. 

Will looked at him. The dilated pupils in those mesmerizing irises nearly drew his soul into them. 

“I want you,” Will said, and that was more than enough.

Hannibal kissed Will’s jaw and throat and the quick pulse on his neck. He smelled Will’s nervousness again, which was now mixed with a heated, musky scent. He suppressed a groan and tugged at the loose knot of Will’s sleep robe. “May I?”

Will puffed out a laugh. He pushed away Hannibal’s hand and took off his robe. “Stop pretending to be a gentleman.”

Hannibal blinked. “I am a gentleman.”

Will rolled his eyes and threw himself into Hannibal’s arms. His whiskey-flavored breath kissed Hannibal’s lips as he smirked. “What kind of gentleman would gawk at someone’s ass once they have a chance?”

“I am merely admiring your physical beauty.” Hannibal ran his hands over Will’s back and squeezed Will’s buttocks.

Will smirked. “Would it be better for you to admire me if I take off my clothes?”

Hannibal managed not to growl as he watched Will undid the remaining buttons, and before Will could shrug off his shirt, Hannibal’s hands were already on Will, feeding on the warmth and softness of Will’s skin. 

Will’s chest rose and fell shallowly. Hannibal soothed him with a kiss, drawing his hands to Will’s taut stomach. His fingers glided across Will’s scar and navel and the elastic of his boxers.

“Please,” Will breathed on his cheekbone.

Hannibal pushed off the fabric from Will’s legs. Will stood sheepishly. His erection throbbed under Hannibal’s gaze.

Hannibal held Will’s hips to pull him into a kiss, but Will blocked his mouth with a palm.

“You’re wearing too much clothes.” Will plucked at Hannibal’s shirt buttons then tore his jacket and shirt off.

As Hannibal lamented over his ruined tuxedo, Will touched all over his fuzzy chest. His curled fingers tugged at the hair and it almost hurt.

Hannibal sucked at Will’s neck, his teeth grazing the skin, and Will shuddered, fumbling at Hannibal’s pants. Hannibal took over the work and stripped himself naked. 

Will’s eyes widened as Hannibal’s cock sprang free.

“Fuck, that’s…” Will wet his lips and hesitantly raised his hands to Hannibal’s hips. 

Hannibal took one of Will’s hands and led Will to touch him. Will’s fingertips brushed his shaft then slid up to play with his foreskin. His toes curled on the carpet and he breathed heavily, encouraging Will to rub his weeping tip.

He groaned. Then they were kissing and sucking and stroking and grinding. Will shoved Hannibal onto the bed and climbed onto his lap, rubbing his cock against Hannibal’s aching one. The electrifying pleasure made them both quiver and moan. 

Hannibal stroke their cocks in a firm grip and fondled Will’s body with the other hand. He aimed straight at the erogenous zones: the scalp, the back of Will’s ears and neck, his nipples, his flanks, and his inner thighs, each touch having Will tensed and his cock twitching. 

Will clawed at Hannibal’s back and moved faster, his cock leaking already. He buried his reddish face on Hannibal’s shoulder, but that made his muffled, yet wantoned moans much easier to be heard.

Hannibal got bolder and reached at Will’s bottom, sliding his fingers into the clef to find Will’s tight hole.

Will stiffened and his cock throbbed. Hannibal circled Will’s hole with his fingertip. It fluttered at his gentle touch just like a shy flower, tempting him to reach in.

He pulled back his hand and squeezed Will’s buttocks. “Do you have lubricant, Will?”

“Yeah, in the drawer.” Will took a few breaths and moved away from Hannibal. 

Hannibal nearly asked Will to stay. He shifted to kneel on the bed and stroked his cock to relieve his desperation. 

Will watched him, fascinated, before giving him the lube. “How do you want me?” 

In the many dreams Hannibal had had, Will was on his lap or on his own stomach or back, but they could explore all of those later. They would.

Hannibal kissed Will’s reddened cheek. “As long as you are comfortable.”

“I want to look at you.” Will laid himself on his back, his whole body flushing, but he wasn’t shy, he spread his legs open, presenting himself to Hannibal.

Hannibal leaned over and left hot and wet kisses on the skin of Will’s knees and thighs. Will’s hips jumped as Hannibal’s breath struck his groin. His cock was throbbing and slick with precum, begging for any kinds of touch.

Hannibal lowered his nose to brush Will’s scrotum, inhaling the rich scent of Will’s arousal. Will gave a weak, shy noise, which prompted Hannibal to press his tongue on Will’s shaft and lick him from his root to his tip. Will was panting and dizzy and aching. 

Hannibal squirted the lube on his hand and rubbed circles onto Will’s hole until it was relaxed enough. He slid in his fingers one by one and little by little, pushing in and out for Will to get used to the feeling, while pressing slightly on the perineum with his thumb. 

Will’s breath hitched. His cock throbbed and leaked, and he started sucking at Hannibal’s fingers when they withdrew. Hannibal buried them back into Will and curled at Will’s prostate, giving a small rub at the sweet spot to have Will whimpering.

“Ah, there, there…”

Hannibal drew back and applied more pressure. Will squirmed, rocking himself to pursue his fingers.

“Fuck...Hannibal…” Will whined in need. “Fuck me.”

Hannibal withdrew his hand and quickly slicked his cock with the lube. He couldn’t afford to waste a second, when Will was calling his name in such desperation. He edged closer to Will and pressed his leaking tip into Will’s hole, which quivered at the intrusion and clenched at him helplessly.

Will was so tight and hot and tempting. Hannibal’s stomach tensed, almost spasming. He ground his teeth and used all of his strength to keep it slow and gentle, retreating then pushing back in to open Will gradually.

His effort soon paid off. Will’s grip on the bed sheets loosened and he let out soft moans, his body hot and yielding and sucking at Hannibal as he pushed in further. 

The sight of Will opening to him, blushing beautifully with his name on those soft lips, was enough to drive Hannibal to madness, to fill his chest with burning vehemence. He whispered Will’s name and buried himself fully into Will.

They quivered at their bonding. Light-headed, Hannibal bent over to kiss Will, who embraced him with the same passion and love. 

It didn’t take a few thrusts to make Will grasp at Hannibal’s hair and whine again. He wrapped his legs around Hannibal’s waist, digging his heels onto Hannibal’s back to bring him closer and deeper, to knead their bodies into one.

Pleasure simmered in Hannibal’s abdomen. He left a hot, sloppy kiss on Will’s slack mouth and hoisted himself up so he was kneeling between Will’s trembling legs, stroking Will’s flushed cock and grabbing his hip to thrust in faster and harder.

“Ah, ah, fuck, Hannibal...” Will writhed blindly, clawing at the sheets as if drowning, and Hannibal wanted to drown him, to make him beg then forget every word but his name.

Will screamed and arched and spilled his seed in Hannibal’s hand, his body spasming around Hannibal’s aching cock. Hannibal stuttered as pleasure erupted inside him and burned his whole body. He panted in delirium, fighting against the urge to close his eyes as he held Will’s hazy gaze. Tears blurred his sight. 

When he regained some strength and sobriety, he disentangled their bodies and fell beside Will, leaning into Will’s welcoming arms, vertiginous, as if they were back on the cliff, when the Dragon’s blood swept beneath their feet, when they clung to each other, when their minds were conjoined and their souls melded together. 

Will reached at Hannibal's face to trace the curve of his cheekbone. Hannibal closed his eyes at the tender touch, and when Will stroked along his jaw, he held Will’s hand and brought it to his mouth, printing a reverent kiss on his ring. 

“You never wear it willingly,” he said, searching for Will’s gaze which was fixated at his lips.

Will raised a brow at him. “I wear it on a necklace.”

Hannibal blinked. Oh. _Oh._

“I just don’t want to scratch it,” Will said, resting his head on his bent arm. “I scratched the hell out of the last one I had.” A lopsided smirk raised in his face. “Well, I can wear it on my hand if you care about it that much.”

“There is no need to worry about the scratches,” Hannibal said. “I could always buy you a new one—and allow me to buy you an engagement ring. I have not proposed to you properly yet.”

Will laughed at him. “With flowers and candles and chocolates?”

“And after a seven course meal made with the pigs I killed for you.”

Will shoved at Hannibal’s chest playfully. “You are incorrigible.”

Hannibal grabbed Will’s hand to kiss his ring again, grinning like a fool. “But you love me.”

  
  



End file.
